


Arrival

by TherealKyena



Series: Exiled Ones [1]
Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: A ship will sail, All of the Draenei are, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, F/F, F/M, Falkhen is oblivious to advances until they're right in front of him, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Ishe and Falk need hugs, Lyorien is bae, Mild Smut, Mild canon divergence, Pirates, Where is Ishetii, mentioned child death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TherealKyena/pseuds/TherealKyena
Summary: Ishetii and her twin brother Falkhen have escaped Draenor and made it to Azeroth. This is their story as they try to rebuild a new life on what they hope will be their final home.





	1. Azuremyst Isle

Ishetii knew that when she landed on this planet that she'd have to get used to it all over again. Thousands of her people had been lost during the escape from Draenor.

She could count four people among those lost. Four of her family.

Bellishaa was lucky that she escaped from the wreckage with hardly a scratch. Ishetii wasn’t so lucky. She spent months recovering from several broken bones and internal bruising. Months that she wished she could have spent taking care of her friends. Her people.

Ishetii had found a way to carve out a niche for herself in guarding her new island home. Bellishaa worked in the remains of the Exodar as an innkeeper’s assistant. It wasn’t work the woman liked doing but Ishe was glad that it kept her busy and out of trouble. One less person to worry about. Besides, Belishaa could fight later when they were settled more. Much like Draenor, they probably weren’t the only sentient beings on this planet.

That left Ka’vaan wandering around. Ishe hadn’t been able to speak with him in the longest time and the boy had found an interest in shamanism, which kept him away with the teachers. Aluuni followed closely after him. Toren went with Falk to the Vindicators.

“Ishetii, it's time to go on patrol.” Ishe looked up to see Jilaana standing in her doorway. Her aunt smiled at her and jerked her head for Ishe to follow.

Jilaana and Braniir were the last of her family to survive. Her two cousins, soon to be three, had survived. They had lived in Shattrath, far away from Ishe and her family. Muti and Ahomat were just children, the same age as Serah and Breorhan.

Serah…

The thought of her baby sister hit her heart like a mace blow. Then the thought of Maraad.

_Maraad let them die. He let her die for vengeance._

“Ishetii!” Jilaana called. Ishe surged out of bed, snatching her tabard over her arm and grabbing up her crystalline sword. One leftover thing from her father. The other was her mother’s but Ishetii was not yet strong enough again to wield them both again. She wondered if her mother had ever made it out of the grips of the orcs in Tanaan. All she remembered was that fucking _Orc_ dragging her mother and her little brother from her.

She was the one that watched most of her family die. Ishetii watched her father stay behind in Shattrath to trick the orcs so their people could escape. This is where she got her greatsword. Kaed was a great champion of the Naaru but that still did not protect him when the orcs launched their horrid red liquid into the city and killed nearly all of them.

Ishetii had fled with her younger sister on her back, her father’s greatsword in her hands. Maarad had promised to lead them to safety, he had promised her that she wouldn’t have to worry about Serah dying. “She’d be safe with the others,” he had said. He lied. Vengeance still burned in his heart for orcish blood.

He let her die while Ishe actually protected them.

She caught up with her aunt as she tied up her hair and straightened her tabard. Her armor made a soft clinking as she walked, the plates clicking together with each step, the chainmail underneath singing it’s own song. She forgot her shield but she hated using one. They were slow and cumbersome to her. Ishetii would much rather focus on killing her opponent quicker than they could kill her.

“Why do they still let you out on patrol, Jilaana? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Ishe’s brows were furrowed as she inspected her aunt. The birds sung their songs overhead. Butterflies and moths went about their business. It had Ishe letting out a quiet sigh of contentment with the scent of ripening berries on their bushes. The life that had once inhabited the isle undisturbed had come back full force after the Exodar crash landed.

The sun was shining. The air was crisp and clean. For the most part, that is. Ishe saw Jilaana soaking in the sun too. She had that faraway look in her eyes that she got when she remembered their homeworld. The place they should still be living on had the Burning Legion not come and sown greed in their hearts.

Argus.

Jilaana would tell her stories of herself and Jiaan running around on Argus as young girls. They both got into endless trouble with their mother and father but they could never stay angry at their darling twins. They walked further, Jilaana stretching out the time until she had to answer.

“EREDAR!” The voice split through the peace, sending birds scattering. “Andu falah dor!” The figure, a woman by the looks of it, wearing a silvery robe came charging from further down the path that had been trodden into a path. Her words were strange, lilting and melodic but still harsh. If she wasn’t charging like an enraged elekk Ishe would have thought she was singing.

Ishetii barely had time to pull her sword from her back and block the staff blow. It sent sparks through her arms from the force, enough to rattle her teeth. The woman snarled at her a ripped away her staff, twirling it in her hands as she assumed what Ishetii thought was a fighting stance. “I’m not going to fight you!” She cried, blocking yet another teeth rattling blow.

The woman hissed and pushed harder against Ishe’s sword until it was nearly against her neck.

Jilaana brought her plated elbow down onto the back of the woman’s head. The woman fell like a stone before Ishe’s eyes. Her aunt knelt next to her, pressing her fingers against her neck to feel for what she hoped would be a pulse.“We’ll bring her back to the camp, Ishetii. She’ll be cared for.”

Ishetii grabbed up the staff and gave it a once over before she slid in into the scabbard for her sword. She searched the stranger for more weapons and found all sorts of strange odds and ends. A stone that glimmered like a moon. Different herbs and plants were stuffed into her satchel, some freshly cut.

“What’s in the bag, Ishe?” Jilaana held out her hand towards Ishe so she could take the satchel.

“Just some medicinal odds and ends?” She furrowed her brow in thought. “Perhaps she’s their anchorite?” Ishe waved a hand towards the woman.

“But she fights like a damn warrior.” Jilaana supplied, tossing the satchel over her shoulder. Her eyes roamed over her prone body and she let out a sigh. “Take the woman back to camp, we’ll look after her and see if she wakes up again.”

Ishetii nodded and slid her arm under the woman’s knees and around her shoulders. She hoisted the stranger further into her arms with a grunt. She wasn’t as light as she looked. Both Ishetii and Jilaana made their way back into their camp with the woman. Ishe hoped they might get answers if she ever woke again. What planet they landed on, whether or not they could live in peace with the locals. If they could hope to have a home here or if they’d have to start up the search once again.

Jilaana shared her itch for answers. Her curiosity was as strong as her niece’s.


	2. Diplomacy

The woman was heavier than she looked. It was a long hike back to the newly rising village where Ishetii and Jilaana lived. By the time they were halfway back, Ishe was sweating buckets in her armor. Her leg ached, along with the rest of her body. She had yet to fully heal from her injuries when the Exodar crashed.

“Are you alright, Ishetii?” Jilaana asked with a laugh, her brow arched questioningly as she sweated and huffed and puffed with the stranger in her arms.

“Forgive me, Jilaana!” Ishetii huffed, shifting the woman’s weight again. “I couldn’t get my exercises in while I bedridden.”

Jilaana clenched her jaw, and that was the end of their conversation.

Ishetii knew better. It was Jilaana who pulled her from that wreckage and nursed her back to health. Who kept Falkhen from falling into the abyss like Ishetii had done before they came here, back on Draenor. Her words had struck deep in Jilaana’s heart.

The hood the stranger wore fell backwards, impossibly long dark hair fell from her head. In the sunlight, the blue shone through the darkness, almost like the depths of a great sea. Ishetii had never seen such hair. Sure she had seen dark blue before on a Draenei, but not one that could shift and change into any shade of blue just by the way the sunlight hit it. Perhaps the Draenei had strange shades to these people. Honeyed blonde to raven black and any color in between.

It only added to Ishetii’s curiosity about these natives. She wanted to know their language, their customs. How they trained these warrior women. Once again, she felt the itch of exploration and discovery in her bones. She’d wanted to know all about the Orcs when they first came to Draenor. She threw herself wholeheartedly into that venture, though it never panned out the way she thought it would.  
So she plodded along after her aunt in silence until they reached the village.

~~~~~~

Ishetii was tasked with watching over the woman to see if she woke up. Hours had passed without much change, though the healers and their anchorite, Phebenora had looked her over and said that she was knocked pretty good by Jilaana and that she just had to come back around.

Ishetii hoped that she wasn’t bleeding internally in her brain and that’s why she wasn’t waking up. She’d seen too many Draenei try to tame a wild talbuk only to end up with a hoof to the head and die a few hours later from the pressure on their brains.

“We’re just going to have to wait and see, Ishetii. She could pull through and she could not.” Phebenora gave her a pat on the top of her head and made her way to her tent to pray.

She was just drifting off to sleep after keeping watch for a better part of the day when the woman stirred. A groan came from her lips and her hands went to her head. The stranger started to sit up.

Ishe pushed her back down slowly and called out for the anchorite. “Just, lay back.” Ishetii said, knowing that she couldn’t understand. Perhaps it would make her more angry but they didn’t need her running off if she was still hurt.

Phebenora crawled slowly from her tent on deadened legs to give the stranger another once over. She made her follow a finger with her eyes and listened to her heart and lungs. She made her touch her finger to her nose and touch her fingers to her thumbs. Most of Phebenora’s instruction came from showing her what she wanted, and the latter complying after a beat. When she was satisfied with her diagnosis she let Ishetii and the woman alone for a little while while she made something to eat. Probably another watery soup with whatever they could scrounge from their isle.

“So, what’s your name?” Ishetii made a scribbling motion on her hand and pointed to herself. She knew that the other woman couldn’t understand her but it didn’t stop her from trying. “Ish-ey-tea.” She exaggerated, pointing to herself again at the woman’s confusion.

Her expression shifted to one of understanding as she pointed to herself. “Hess-i-uh. Gaer-flos.”

Phebenora returned to them, holding a steaming cauldron with both hands, trying to keep it from spilling until she set it on the ground with a hiss when some slopped out. She produced two bowls, one for Ishetii and one for Hessia. 

“Perhaps there is a spell, something?” Ishe pulled her eyes from Hessia’s to Phebenora’s. “She has to understand us.”

“Not my forte, Ishetii.” Phebenora tapped at her chin. “Though there is one person who could help us out.” With that, she disappeared once again, leaving them with steaming bowls of thin broth with...something suspended in it. It didn’t look particularly appetizing. The broth was nearly the color of water, with bits of stringy meat and these strange crunchy plants.

Hessia took a sniff, blew on it a bit then took a sip of broth before she looked up to Ishetii with a curled lip. She chewed the crunchy bits, graciously, and set the bowl down. Ishetii did the same with a nod in Hessia’s direction.

“Is there some way that you can get this to work, Vel’orhan? Phebenora was close on the male’s heels as he made his way to the two of them, almost excitedly. He said a greeting and dropped next to Ishetii. “Vel’orhan?”

“Shhh, Phebe. As soon as we get this spell working we need to go to the Prophet and tell him we are not alone on this planet.”

“But are you sure it’s going to  _ work _ , Orhan?” Ishetii watched Hessia across from the both of them.

“Oh, I’m sure of it. We did much the same when we met with the orcs.” He muttered an incantation after a short preparation which Ishetii could not make sense of. Hessia kept her eyes on Ishetii and kept quiet. “That should work.”

Hessia furrowed her brow at Vel’orhan and whipped her eyes over to Ishetii. “Can you understand me, Hessia?”

She was breathless for a moment then she sucked in some air. “Yes, Ishetii.”

Vel’orhan narrowed his eyes at Ishetii. His eyes bounced between her and Hessia. He was obviously uneasy. “Can you understand her, Ishetii?”

Ishetii turned slightly from Hessia and cocked her head at Orhan. “Uh, yeah. Can’t you?”

He shook his head slowly. “Nope. Not a word.”

“Well, fuck!” Ishetii exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to be a damned translator in the Exodar for Velen.”

“Velen? The Exodar?” Hessia asked quickly, her own eyes bouncing between Orhan and Ishe. “How can I understand him but he can’t understand me?”

“Well, Ishetii, it wouldn’t be forever. See, the spell wears off in about a week or so. Or at least how I made it. So now’s the time to make the most of it, make a simpler primer or dictionary so we can learn this language and they can learn ours.”

“There is no need to learn ours, eredar. Common is spoken by the races of the Alliance.”

“The Alliance?” Ishetii was awestruck. Perhaps there were others on this planet as well. Other races. A whole new world was out there, waiting to be explored. Ishe almost couldn’t contain herself-

“Ishetii, are you listening to me?” Orhan tapped her on the shoulder and Ishe put up a finger to silence him.

“It’s what the Kaldorei belong to. It’s a group comprised of the Humans, Kaldorei, Gnomes, and Dwarves.”

“There’s more of you out there? More races?”

Hessia nodded her head. “Of course.” She gave Ishetii a sad smile. “There is always more of us.”


	3. Journeying

It was going to be a long journey to the Exodar. They’d let Hessia rest for a couple of days before she said that she would go stir crazy if she didn’t get back to her people. The translation spell was added and expanded so that she could understand her for a whole month. Ishetii would be showing her to the coast, where she could hopefully find her boat anchored off the beach. Supposedly, there was a pirate captain who had brought her here in search of herbs and things when they saw that the ship crashed.

That prompted Hessia even more to come to the isle and investigate. She had saw what they were and attempted to get back to the coast but was blocked in by the rapidly angering owlkin. That’s when Ishetii and Jilaana happened upon her.

“Remember the pirate captain I was telling you about?” She asked suddenly, jogging a bit to catch up to Ishetii’s longer stride.

Ishetii mumbled a response. Looking at the crudely drawn map in her hands. It would be a long time before the isle became a permanent home, and the path to the Exodar was treacherous because there was no real path there. Sure, you could pick out one that wound beneath the towering pines but it would quickly turn to be the wrong one. Visibility in the forest was next to zero with how thickly the trees grew together. It gave Ishetii the claustrophobic feeling that she would get in Gorgrond.

“Ishetii, are you listening?”

“Hm?” She looked upwards, seeing nothing of the stars nor the sun. Hessia seemed to see a little better during the night, so Ishetii let her lead the way through the twisting roots and underbrush. The Kaldorei, as she called herself, could walk through it almost like she was dancing. Effortlessly. It made Ishetii feel like an ungainly elekk.

“My elder sister is waiting out there for me. At least I hope she is. My son too. Hessian is his name.”

Again, Ishetii grunted an answer to her, focusing on the map and where she was placing her hooves.

“Do you have any children, Ishetii?”

She stopped suddenly. Hessia very nearly tripped over her. “No.” She answered quickly. “I'm more interested in women. Now, anyway.”

Hessia merely shrugged and started up walking again. After a couple more minutes of silence she started whispering again. “We all were, in a way. The long vigil was a lonely age for ourselves. Some partook, others did not. It was all personal preference.”

Now Ishetii was intrigued. “Did what?”

“Laid with each other. Of course, we've always done that, we don't put much emphasis on who we sleep with. But it was much more widespread I suppose.”

“Did you?”

Hessia broke into a wry smile. “that's personal, Ishetii.” She stopped for a beat, pushing herself past the draenei. “I no longer remember the number.”

“That many?”

“Perhaps more, but too many to count on one hand.” She paused, her lips pursed. “Too many to count on two hands.”

Both women chuckled and made their way into a broad clearing, a sheer cliff to their right and the great expanse of the Exodar looming in front of them. “Ishetii, may I ask a personal question?”

“Ask away, Hessia. I have nothing to hide.”

“Why do you call yourselves Draenei if you are Eredar?”

Ishetii chewed on her lip. She remembered what Hessia had screamed at her when they first met. She had heard tales about what their lives were like when the lived on Argus. She had vague memories of the ship that took them from planet to planet searching for a new home after Kil’jaeden vowed to hunt them down. Her parents had known Argus. The splendor of their civilization before the Burning Legion came.

“Draenei means Exiled Ones in Draenic.” She allowed them a few moments rest, finding a broken stump to sit on and munch on some bread. Hessia disappeared for a moment and came back with some berries. Once they were both settled in and eating, she spoke again through mouthfuls of the tart berries. “We left our homeworld, Argus, many many years ago. The Legion came and turned some of our brethren into monsters because of their lust for power.”

“The Legion has visited our home twice. We’ve pushed them back.” Hessia popped a berry in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “The Eredar that came wove foul spells against us in that first war. The War of the Ancients, they call it now.”

“How long ago was this War of the Ancients?”

She thought for another moment. “Over ten thousand years by now.”

Ishe arched a brow. “How old  _ are _ you, Hessia?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes falling to the ground in thought. She gestured with her finger, reciting a few numbers to herself before she snapped her fingers. “About fourteen thousand years, give or take a few.”

Ishe’s eyes went wide. “Kaldorei have long lives.” She observed.

“Longer than most.”

A snap in the underbrush had both of them reaching for their weapons. Ishe her crystalline greatsword and Hessia her staff.

The stranger was small. Smaller than even Hessia. He looked very nearly like a child. Sun browned skin, a crop of black hair. He muttered something in a strange tongue to Hessia, readying the rather large axe in his hands.

Hessia extended out a hand to the stranger “She is a friend.”

More strange mutterings.

“He’s here? Something on his ship?” She huffed and shook her head. “Fool. Do you know if Captain Seawhisper is still anchored here?”

More of the strange speech. Hessia broke into a smile and waved him away with the promise that she would join up with them when she got to the coast. “Get a message to Captain Seawhisper’s vessel and tell her to sail to the crashed ship. I’ll meet her there.” Hessia turned to Ishetii after he left.

“What was that all about?” She sheathed her sword again and adjusted the strap across her chest.

“That was a human. A crewmate on Admiral Odesyus’ vessel. Kerai’s still out there.” Hessia grabbed Ishe’s shoulders and smiled up at her. “She’s still waiting for me!” She danced away, spinning until her robes belled out from her waist.

“Then let’s get you to your sister.”

~~~~~~

They finally reached the Exodar a couple of hours later, where a port was under construction.

“So. This is it.” Hessia said when she saw the vessel anchored a little further than the port. Ishetii half expected for Hessia to take off for the ship and leave her behind. But that was only one of the missions of this little trip they had taken. Hessia hoped, along with Phebenora, to get a message from the Prophet Velen to their High Priestess, Tyrande.

“This is the Exodar.” Ishetii swept a hand over the expanse of the crashed ship. It still smoldered but was largely still livable. “In the Vault of Lights is Prophet Velen. He should be able to write something or give you a message to give to your people. If this is to be our home we need to get along with others.”

“Take me to him.” She smiled a bit at Ishe when she whipped her head towards her, a look of confusion no doubt making her look like a fool. “It’s a small part I can play and I’d like to have you with me.  _ Translator. _ ” She said with a wink before she made her way to the entrance of the Exodar.

A guard escorted them to the Vault of Lights where Velen spent most of his time. He listened to reports from his scouts and the complains of his people. He was entertaining someone before they were granted their time in front of him. When he saw Ishetii, he extended a greeting to her with a warm smile on his face. She could see his weariness settle in deep lines on his ancient face. He was older than any Draenei that Ishetii knew. She regarded him as a distant relative, a grandfather of sorts.

Ishetii closed their distance and rested their crests together, both taking in a long breath in greeting. “Greetings and blessings to you, Prophet.”

“May they extend to you, Ishetii of the Genedar and of Draenor.” He shifted his focus to Hessia, who waited just out of the spotlight. She was staring at the Vault of Lights almost as if she was enraptured. “Who is this stranger you bring to me?”  
“Her name is Hessia Gaer’flos.” Her mouth stumbled over the Darnassian but it was intelligible enough. “She’s a native of this planet, one of them at least. She’s promised to deliver a message to her people, telling them that we mean no harm.”

“How did she come into your protection?” He tugged at his white whiskers that reached to his waist thoughtfully.

“Well, she,” Ishe rubbed the back of her head. “She attacked myself and Jilaana while we were doing patrols a couple of days ago. Vel’orhan created a spell so that we could understand each other.”

He hummed to himself for a moment and tugged at his beard some more before he motioned for Ishetii to pulled Hessia into the conversation. “I will send a message to her leader. Ishetii, if you would translate for me?”

“It would be an honor, Prophet.” She whistled to get Hessia’s attention and urged her over. “The Prophet will send a message to High Priestess Tyrande.”

Hessia bowed deeply to the Prophet, her right arm over her chest. “Greetings, Prophet Velen.”

“She says greetings, Prophet.” He returned a greeting at started his message. “I wish no harm to you or your people. We must meet and discuss much. Please, return with good tidings. My people have suffered much.” She looked between Velen and Hessia as she relayed his message. She had somehow found a way to write it down on a scrap of paper she had stashed away in her herbal bag.

Hessia bowed her head once more towards the Prophet once she had everything written out and rolled up the scrap of paper. “I’ll get this to High Priestess Tyrande as soon as we sail back to Teldrassil.” She turned back to Ishetii and grabbed up her hand. “You’re coming too, right?”

Ishe glanced over to Velen and saw his slow grin. She mulled it over for a moment before she nodded at Hessia. “I’ll have to let Jilaana know. And Falkhen and everyone.”

“What about Falkhen?” A familiar voice called out. The sight of her brother, resplendent in his glittering plate. “You forget my sister, that wherever you go, I go.”

“How long have you been waiting to make your dramatic entrance?” Ishe crossed her arms over her chest and faced her twin.

He brushed off a speck from his breastplate. “A little while.”


	4. A Portal Reopened

_Somewhere off the coast of the Eastern Kingdoms,_

_Great Sea,_

_Three months after contact_

Ishetii picked up common quickly enough to speak intelligibly. Her accent was still thick and she found herself reciting the little rhymes and chants that the teacher had taught her. He had said that many Human children learned these same rhymes to help them learn their words. Darnassian was another beast. She practiced it while she sat rocking in the great cabin of Captain Seawhisper’s vessel on her way to Teldrassil. The pirate captain did have some humans on her crew who taught Ishetii, through Hessia translating, some phrases in common that she might hear when she becomes a part of the Alliance. Falkhen picked up Darnassian faster than Ishetii did, much to her chagrin.

The Burning Legion had come again to Azeroth. Through the Dark Portal, or so the races of Azeroth called it. Ishetii remembered its construction. The abductions to power the portal. The reason why her mother and younger brother was stolen from her. She pared off a section of an apple with her dagger while she thought of their deaths. Once more, she recited her little rhymes in her head as she did so.

The Eastern Kingdoms was a ways away from Teldrassil and Kalimdor, the lands where the Exodar had crashed. At least they had fallen on an unoccupied isle where they could spread out without much issue. She had come to like the thought of this being a permanent home. These people had fought off the _Legion_ multiple times. Perhaps they could help keep this place safe. Ever since Ishetii had heard the stories of the Burning Legion and the Eredar she always wanted to make her last stand against them. She wished that her people had more fight. But they were too peaceful. Most of them, anyways. They were tired and running but they didn’t want to cause harm.

She let out a sigh as she munched on the crunchy tang of the green apple. A great sea spread out around the ship, stretching as far as Ishetii could see. The smell of the salt on the breeze made her long for her times she spent in Shattrath City’s harbor and in the Temple of Karabor.

Hessia eased herself next to Ishetii. “You look a little lost.”

Ishetii smiled and pulled her eyes from the sea. “Just thinking of my last home.”

“Did it have a great sea like this?” She grinned at the ocean that spread around her. She seemed almost at home on the ship, even more so than she had been on land. Every wave she seemed to know how to hold herself through the motions. Ishetii had to fight to stand upright on the slick wood.

Ishetii nodded and pared off a section for Hessia. She took it and munched meditatively, pulling her long legs underneath her as she watched the ocean stretch ahead of them. Now Hessia looked far away, like she was swimming in her many memories again. Ishetii noticed that she would recede into herself often, curling into herself quietly as everyone moved in front of her. Nobody else seemed to notice when it happened. Or they just paid no mind to her.

She let Hessia sit in silence for a little while as they both rocked with every dip and rise the vessel took in time with the waves. They were almost to Stormwind in the Eastern Kingdoms. Ishetii hoped that people wouldn’t gape and simultaneously try to shove a knife in her ribs in Stormwind like the Kaldorei tried to do in Darnassus. Even more hurled their insults and cries of ‘Eredar’ at her and Falkhen. She tried to not let it get under her skin and just roll off of her shoulders. But Falkhen didn’t have Ishetii’s temper. No, his was as quick to light as a parched field.

He still sat simmering bow of the ship. Ishetii just gave him his space and stayed out of his game of wooing anyone on the ship.

“Stormwind, inbound!” She heard Kerai bellow. Ishetii was sure that Kerai’s voice was everywhere on the boat. The _Dragon of the Ocean_ made turned gently to port as Ishetii and Hessia watched the crew scramble to pull in certain sails and tug on ropes that Ishetii had no idea what to do with. Kerai was up at the helm, her eyes focused on the rocks and bringing in the _Dragon_ easy. The captain looked very much at home with her hands on her wheel.

Ishetii hauled herself to her feet and ruffled Hessia’s hair as she walked to the bow of the ship.

She met Falkhen on the bow and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “Where’s your shadow?” He asked as he glanced behind her for Hessia. She could tell he was still a little peeved but much calmer than he had been before. The human who said the offhanded comment would probably never speak a word to either Draenei.

She jerked a thumb back toward the direction she had come. “Brooding.”

Falk smiled and shook his head, grabbing onto the railing as the boat hit a rather large wave. It had Ishe scrabbling for purchase as well. “Seawhispers are strange.”

“You like a certain one, don’t you?”

Falkhen let out a long sigh. “Subtlety is lost on you, Ishetii.”

Ishe threw back her head and laughed. “Perhaps, but I don’t think you’ll be wriggling your way under her robes. You don’t seem like her type.”

He arched a brow at her, his shit eating smirk pulling at his lips. “What’s not to like about me, Ishetii?” He held his arms out wide with such a puppy dog look on his face that Ishe couldn’t help but laugh at his stupidity. She saw the flicker of relief that was in his eyes whenever she laughed or smiled. As much as they gave each other gruff, Ishetii knew that her twin was always there to hold her up if she needed him to. They were practically all each other had in this world, closer than any other brother and sister. They’d been together since they were conceived and nothing could break that bond.

Ishetii snorted and shook her head. Sometimes Falkhen was a hair oblivious though. “Honestly brother, she’d rather climb in bed with me.”

Falkhen shrugged and they both glanced over to the harbor that they had set anchor on. “Guess we’ll have to see once we go back home.”

It struck a cord in Ishetii’s gut. They’re going back  _ home _ . To Draenor. She hoped that it was still intact. That they could still say that her people had been there. But Ishetii knew that Draenor was no home to her. She already loved Azeroth. Whatever happened to her people, she knew that if they fled again, she would remain and fight.

Both turned to catch a glimpse of the huge harbor of Stormwind. The great white stone that caught the sunlight. It was almost too bright to look at. It made Ishetii squint her eyes against the brightness. The docks held several ships in port, huge steamer vessels and the more common sailing galleons. Warships sat in the harbor as well, waiting for their use. Captain Kerai Seawhisper made her appearance to the pair of Draenei with a smile on her face.

“How are you liking the Eastern Kingdoms, Draenei?” Her coat whipped and flapped in the wind from the sea, salty and fishy.

Falkhen turned to Kerai squinting. “It’s very,” He paused for a moment before he shielded his eyes to the light. “Bright.”

Kerai hooted and punched Falkhen on the shoulder, the draenei rubbing the spot when she hauled herself onto the railing of her caravel. “You’ll think otherwise, Falkhen.” She plopped herself onto the railing, her legs dangling off the side. She was dangerously close to falling into the sea but Ishetii knew better. If anything, the ocean would spit her back out none the worse for wear. “It’s a damn shithole of a city but at least it looks pretty.”

Ishetii could hear people shouting their catch of the day to the ships. The harbor was bursting with the hustle and bustle of people going here and there. Once again, she was reminded of the city of Shattrath and the Temple of Karabor. She let out a wistful sigh and wished that they never had to leave Draenor. That she and Hun-

“Ishetii.” Kerai leapt to her feet on the railing and hopped down, her Seawhisper blue-black hair haloing around her for a moment before it landed back to curl around her long ears. “I have a little gift for you. For saving my sister.” She motioned for Ishetii to follow as she disappeared into her captain’s quarters.

Adjusting her eyes to the dimness, she found Kerai dusting off a fur wrapped box. “I know that this is a bit presumptuous, but,” She held out the bundle to Ishetii who took it and found where it was bound together. Out she pulled a silk wrapped silver gilded harp, little moons carved into it. “I was talking with Falkhen about Draenei music and he said that you would play something that was rather like this harp.” She gestured to it as Ishetii plucked a string, the soft tinkle of the high note resonating through the cabin.

A thousand memories of playing in front of the crowds at Embaari Village, even up to Elodor and the Temple of Karabor. “I do not deserve such a fine gift.” She remembered her own hand harp, similarly shaped to this one but much lighter. It had been her mother’s on Argus many years ago and she had lost it when they fled. Ever since then she missed it dearly. “I did only my duty.”

Kerai merely smiled. “A beautiful gift for a beautiful soul. Not many would save the one who tried to kill them.”

“Captain, what could I hope to do with this? Take it with me?”

“Play it for the people you’ve left behind. I’m sure that they miss the music.”

Ishetii let herself smile as she plucked at the strings to make a simple melody. It rang out sweetly in the cabin and Ishetii knew what her fingers had moved to make. An old song she had made for a certain someone. It had made him laugh, along with the little baby.

She wrapped it back up and thanked Kerai for the gift, heading down into her room to don her armor and belt her swords to her. They had a short downtime in Stormwind before they were taking gryphons down to the Blasted Lands south of Elwynn where Stormwind lay.

To Outlands they were bound, to fight the Legion anew.


	5. To Outlands

They were allowed a short rest in Stormwind while they waited for the gryphons and their riders to help guide them to the Blasted Lands. Kerai had put her passengers up in an inn in Old Town but they were given free reign in the city. Kerai stayed behind on her ship, tallying up cargo and the like. Hessia was headed to the park where some of her people stayed so she could catch up with some old friends.

Now was the chance to see who Ishetii would be fighting beside during her excursion back home. An assortment of Sentinels made up the bulk of the forces that Tyrande had sent on Kerai’s vessel. Ten in total had been sent along. Three of them were the famed hippogryph riders that Ishetii had heard stories from while she voyaged. Aethil Woodgrove, Ilyari Treelance and Shora Moonfire brought their famed mounts along with them. Four more were Huntresses, trained by a legendary Kyena Moonblade herself. Their enormous sabers gave Ishetii a fright at first, but all of the beasts were as docile as kittens in their master’s hands. Silyura Stonemoon, Caferieth Wildbreeze, Ilyfaena Shadewatcher and Alnnya Farsnow made up the Huntress division on the _Dragon._ Asledraeth Bearheart and Eslanysae Nightspirit were two scouts while the final Sentinel was in charge of them. Thalysa Silverspear was a bear of a woman, short and thick. But all of the night elves that Ishetii had met so far had been short compared to her. Only a few males were able to come close but didn’t top her.

The last passenger was another boy, younger than the other night elves. The boy was silver haired, much like the other three, though he looked nothing like the others. But only four of the silver haired night elves she had seen so far. She supposed that it was a rarity. Unlike the other silver haired ones, he had a gentle smile, easily brought. Though he was shy and reserved, Ishetii had no problem opening him up to her. They talked for hours and hours. About his family, his father and his twin sister, Sadrimyr, who had moved on with her own life long ago. Their father had sent him to live with distant relatives but still came to visit, though those had stopped near four hundred years prior without any explanation.

It was the boy who followed Ishetii and Falkhen around Stormwind after they docked, searching for the inn that Kerai had mentioned they were going to be staying at for a while. He tried and failed to make it appear as if he had other business as he followed them both. People gawked at the Draenei and the Night Elf in equal measure. At least no one was trying to kill them yet. Ishetii supposed that word had already been sent to Stormwind far ahead of them, and the king had made his announcements to his people.

Ishetii stopped short and let the boy sheepishly catch up with them. She looked down at the boy expectantly while he blushed and looked at his boots. “Can I aid you, Lyorien?”

“I wanted….well, do - could I?” He stopped and started while Ishe waited for him to find his voice. “Could I come with you and your brother?”

She smiled and ruffled that silver hair. “Of course you can come with us, dummy.” Falk arched a brow but kept walking beside Lyorien, who stared up at her brother with the same moon eyes she’d seen too many times before. Ishetii gave Falk a wink when he met her eyes, snickering at the confusion on his face. Then he glanced down at Lyorien and his blush, then his lips curled into a knowing smirk.

~~~~~~

The inn had a sizeable common room, where a majority of the passengers were sitting and drinking, playing games and singing their songs. Ishetii watched Falk and Hessian grab up hands, seeing who could push over the other’s hand easier. Falkhen was the one who pushed over Hessian more frequently, though Hessian did get a few good tries. Ishetii supposed they were closely matched in strength, though Falk topped Hessia’s son by a good couple of inches along with a couple of pounds.

Lyorien sat next to Ishetii, nursing a cup of wine as he watched Falkhen with barely concealed interest. Her eyes were on Hessian, watching the muscle bunch up under his shirt. He was more wiry, where Falk was power and strength. She had watched him hop around the deck of the  _ Dragon _ enough to know where he got that muscle from, tying ropes and hauling around cargo. Ishetii had seen him training with Kerai, the both of them battling back and forth on their journey with wooden swords.

Ishetii took a long drink of her ale and sighed. She cast another glance to Lyorien, who didn’t even notice that she was looking at him. He only had eyes for Falkhen. She gave him a nudge with her elbow, making him jolt a little. “So, Lyorien, what made you want to come to Outlands?” She asked with a smile.

He took his time wiping up the spill. “I,” He let out a sigh and dropped the cloth down onto the table. “I wanted some adventure. To show up my sister.” He chewed on his lower lip, long silver brows knitting together. “She’s so strong and brave and I’m...not.”

Ishetii sucked in a breath. Three months at sea with the boy was not enough time to be lecturing him, she knew, but something about this boy made her draw him under her wing. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of Breorhan. Or even herself and Falkhen when they were just kids. So she settled on soothing him. “Your sister would be proud, I’m sure.”

He smiled a bit at that. “Sadri always loved to adventure and explore. It would nearly drive An’da mad when she would disappear when we were kids. He always told me that she was going to be the death of him one of this days. Min’da would’ve been worried sick.”

By the look on his face, his mother was a sore spot. Ishetii chose not to pry further. So she chose to tease him, hopefully getting his mind back off of his family.  “If you want to spend some time with Falk, all you need to do is ask.” Her accent might have made it hard to pronounce certain sounds but she was happy that she was picking it up so quickly.

He flinched so hard, Ishetii thought that he was going to fall out of his seat. A dark flush came over his face as Ishetii snickered. “I-I,” He stammered, vigorously shaking his head. He took a deep breath and straightened his shirt before he cleared his throat. “I have no interest in Falkhen other than...friendship.” He ended lamely.

She gave his arm a friendly pat. “Whatever gets you to sleep at night, Lyorien.” She stood and gave a nod to Hessia, sitting with her sister and the rest of the crew. She heard them whispering about a son and a daughter, Kerai looking a bit deflated from how she had been on the ship earlier. Ishetii let out a sigh and turned from the promise of sleep, wandering over to Kerai and Hessia. “You look a bit green.” She told Kerai.

“Blue, Ishetii.”

“Whatever. You have too many speech figures.”

“It’s figures of speech.” Hessia corrected again, her pointer finger held upwards.

Ishetii rolled her eyes and pulled out a bench across from Kerai. “What is wrong?”

Kerai drew a shaky breath, taking a sip of her spiced wine. “I realized what day it was, Ishetii, thats all.”

“And what is this day?” Ishetii folded her hands together on the table, leaning forward slightly.

“Today is the seventh of Farhal, or May as the humans call it.” Her bottom lip quivered slightly, and tears began to form in her eyes. Kerai fought hard to keep her lip from shaking too much, staring up at the ceiling. Hessia wrapped her arm through her sister’s, resting her head protectively on her shoulder. “Today was my daughter’s birthday.”

Ishetii pulled one of Kerai’s hands into her own. For once, Ishetii knew to hold her tongue. She knew the pain of celebrating birthdays alone. Kerai clung tightly to her fingers as she finally let herself sob softly.

“Her name was Myn’ra and she was the sweetest girl I knew. Her and her brother both.” Her eyes met Ishetii’s with a look so pained she didn’t know how Kerai held herself together on a daily basis. “I loved them both so much and I couldn’t protect them.”

“Oh, Kerai.” Was all Ishetii could say.

~~~~~~

Flying was every bit as terrifying as she remembered. The Dwarven guide took them high over the trees and lakes and mountains. She cast a glance to the rest of them, everyone looking as terrified as the last. She had to admit, as much as it scared her, she had missed being able to fly. Other plus was that it didn’t take nearly as long to get there as it would have to hire mounts and guides to take them down south. Or even to get Kerai to sail to Stranglethorn, which would still lead to the same problem of hiring guides to get them out of the harsh jungle.

Finally trees gave way to sand and blowing winds before they were let down near the portal. It looked nearly identical to the one that had been built on the other side. Ishetii could remember the talks about it when everything first started happening, the draws she had seen and gossip she’d heard. That was before they started dragging people off to power the damned thing. Her mother and brother were among those taken.

She landed lightly on her hooves when they touched down. Falkhen was close behind her, along with the rest of the force that was going into the portal. The hippogryphs and their riders had made better time, though the Huntresses had to traverse the land with their mounts. They would be behind a couple of weeks but they would get to them wherever they were.

Ishetii strode closer to the portal, giving greetings to the commander there before handing him the letter from the king. Up and up the portal stretched. To one standing on the ground, it almost seemed to reach the sky.

She cast a glance to Falk and held out her hand for him to take. Together, they walked through the portal and into their old home. Upon reaching the other side, she braced her eyes against the brightness, one hand held in front of her eyes as she took in the sight of Draenor.


	6. Hellfire

This was not the Draenor she had lived on.

Tanaan Jungle was no more. A huge desolate wasteland that blew sand in the air. It settled in your lungs, threatening to choke you with every deep breath. The very feeling of the air made Ishetii think of something charred beyond recognition.

“What is this place?” Falkhen asked to no one in particular. Both he and Ishetii started their way down the stairs. His eyes danced all over the waste. No one else seemed bothered by the scene in front of them. Everyone was more focused on looking at the demons slowly making their way to the portal. “Is this what became of Tanaan?” He turned slowly to Ishetii, grief plain on his face. He glanced down to the stairs to the pits and cages that had given it power. The bones littering the space, the crunching of the demon’s march over the Path of Glory.

 _Is that where they threw Breorhan and Mother? Are their bones stuck there forever until the rest of the planet cracks apart?_ Ishetii tamped down the sick feeling in her gut. She had a mission to do. She had living people to protect.

Ishe had only seen Tanaan through glimpses. She’d never set foot inside its labyrinth of trees and bushes. She never once thought it would be such a desolate waste full of bones and blood red sand. Much like she never dreamed that the orcs would rise up in anger against them after living in such harmony for so long.

Further down the stair Ishetii and Falkhen walked shoulder to shoulder, their pinkie fingers the only thing holding themselves together. Such an old gesture, from a time that they were just young children together. They would walk together that way with their fingers linked until they grew older. By now, it was just a comfort. To know that Ishetii would never lose her little brother.

They were just about to head to the gryphon master for a short flight over to the Alliance garrison when a voice stopped them.

“Ishetii? Falkhen?” A groaning voice came from above them, on the stairs. A humped and misshapen form limped towards them.

“Father?” Ishetii couldn’t help her voice from trembling. He looked so small and frail. “Father is that you?”

Kaed shuffled closer, the once vigorous man a shell of what he had been before. The blond beard he had kept so well groomed before was now a scraggly mess. His arms were overly long, ending in such swollen hands that Ishe covered her mouth to stifle her groan. “My twins.” He whispered. Kaed’s fingers grasped at the front of his long robes. Long gone was the Vindicator’s armor, glittering like crystals in the sunlight. Instead, a flowing robe replaced the plate, a leather brigandine protected his chest and back. A wooden staff helped him stay semi-upright.

Falkhen was the first to go to him. He pulled himself gently from the grasp of Ishetii’s pinkie and threw his arms around Kaed. Falk easily towered over the shrunken version of their father, where in Kaed’s prime he made Falkhen look small. Their father almost looked like he could snap in half at Falk’s touch, even by a strong gust of wind. “I thought you died in Shattrath, Father.” Falk’s voice was tight as he gave his father’s shoulder a light smack.

Kaed’s lips pulled into a grim smile. “The Legion had a few tricks up their sleeve. Some liquid that twisted us into these monsters.” He sucked in a breath and shook off the thought. He was quiet for a moment before he sized up Falk and Ishe again. “We should have died there.” He said quietly before he wandered away from the two of them with hardly another word. Kaed looked more than a little lost as he wandered around the stair.

Ishetii and Falk exchanged a confused glance before they went and joined the others from their little group. As they neared, Ishetii gave the portal one last long look, already missing the Seawhispers and the friends that she had made while she was aboard the _Dragon._ She wondered if Kerai truly had given up a life of piracy to become one of the Alliance’s trading vessels with Kalimdor and the Kaldorei.

“Are you coming, Ishetii?” Falkhen called, approaching one of the gryphons rather cautiously. He had a bad run in with one of the previous gryphons on their way down to the Blasted Lands. The beast was one of the more ornery ones and tried to take a piece of Falkhen when he thought to pet the damned thing. Falk nearly pissed himself while the Dwarves got a good chuckle out of the situation.

He’d already told the Dwarf there their groups destination. There was no way that they’d be able to cover the distance in such a hostile environment on the ground. Their superiors also didn’t want to send their bodies back to Azeroth. There was no way a party as large as theirs could go unnoticed as well.

Ishetii approached the gryphon the way she’d seen the Wildhammer Dwarves do and settled herself upon its back. A hop and a jump and she was airborne. Higher and higher the beast’s wings beat against the air. Until the Stair of Destiny was nothing but a blob to be blotted out by her thumb. Until Falkhen, glittering in his plate, turned into an ant far below her, waiting for Ishe’s gryphon to get far enough away. Sending gryphons too close together was too easy a target for the demons to attack. She felt a giddy feeling rise in her chest and suddenly she forgot where she was.

She let her eyes fall closed and forgot. She forgot the pain of seeing her father twisted into a mad monster. She forgot that Serah and Ahomat and her mother were dead. She let her mind drift back to when this place was whole and unbroken. To when she didn’t have anything to fear in her home.

Then she was drifting ever so slowly downwards as the gryphon came into Honor Hold. Down below, she could see the shapes of most of the Kaldorei who had gone before her. Somehow, the three hippogryph riders had gotten their mounts through the portal, along with the sabers for the four Huntresses.

When she landed, Thalysa had a human cornered and was giving him a rather good chewing out, as the humans aboard the _Dragon_ had told Ishe. Whether or not the human she was speaking with was in charge or not, Ishetii had no clue. She was just to follow the Sentinels in whatever they did until the Alliance sent them elsewhere.

“Kyena Stormbow gave me the command.” Thalysa crossed her thick arms over her chest, terrifying the much shorter human. “I will follow your orders but bring them to me, not to my people.” He tried desperately to hold to his courage but having a seven foot tall angry elf at your throat didn’t lend itself to giving one confidence.

“Of course, Sentinel Thalysa. I had no idea you were still affiliated with Knight-Captain Stormbow.” The human still kept a hold on his voice.

“She gave me the command while she took her leave. She’s been in for long enough already.” Thalysa eyed the human once more. “And her title is not ‘Knight-Captain’. That’s a human title. Refer to her as Huntress.”

Ishetii couldn’t help but crack a smile. The way these Kaldorei talked about this Kyena made her sound like a god. Nearly every Kaldorei that served with her had nothing but good things to say. Though every story was flavored with her being a hard ass.

As Thalysa left the human, Ishetii called out, “What did that one have the misfortune of doing?”

“He thought to split up this unit. Huntress Kyena told me to keep us all together. We're a family.” Thalysa traced the shape of her bear claw tattoos and caught Ishetii staring at them. “She's the one who made my tattoos when I completed my training. I wanted them styled after hers.”

Ishetii eyed the bear woman closer. Not one inch of her was soft. She was hard muscle, immovable as a mountain, or a bear. Her medium length sky blue hair was done into a braid that brushed her shoulders. Kyena's standard made armor protected her, a mix of leather and mail. One of her downfalls was she tended to nervous talk. She was a hard ass, to an extent, but afterwards she had the jitters.

But her tattoos intrigued Ishetii. Nearly every female she had seen had these facial markings. Some were more simple, others lacy. Nearly all had a tie to the natural world; bear claws, leaves, an owl’s facial blaze. She'd seen a few with blades adorning their faces. Most of the other Sentinel’s had nature inspired markings. Ilae’s own tattoo was what they called shadow, done in dark ink like murk. Thalysa’s were beautifully done. Little swirls and whirls filled them in. They were one of the only feminine things about Thalysa.

“Pretty, aren't they?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and motioned for Ishetii to walk with her. “It took forever to convince her that I wanted the claws. She kept trying to persuade me to choose a different design, to come up with one that was unique to me.” Thalysa snorted and smiled at the thought. They passed the inn as they made their circle around the yard of the keep. The pair stopped once they reached the trainees practicing and watched them for a while. Ishetii chose not to speak. She’d lived long enough to know that revelations happen when one is quiet.

Thalysa broke the silence after a few minutes. “My parents died when I was a young girl. Many of the women in this unit suffered this same fate. ‘Kyena Dorei’ is the nickname for us. Kyena’s Children. Some say she does it as a sort of penance, or to appease the memory of her three lost children. When we come to the Sentinels as young girls, hoping that perhaps military service can give us something better. At least a dry place to sleep with food.”

Ishetii’s brows knit together as she turned to face Thalysa. “You do not have families you can turn to? Aunts? Uncles?”

Thalysa gave Ishe a look that explained all. Such a deep sorrow some of these Night Elves could portray. Her ears fell against her shoulders, brows downturned. “Many of my people have lost all of their family. Whether it was in the War of the Ancients or the more recent ones. We have all lost much.” She eyed Ishetii and dropped her gaze to the dirt. “Though not as much as some.”

Ishetii clapped her hand to Thalysa’s shoulder. “Pain is relative. Suffering more so. You cannot measure it.”

~~~~~~

After Thalysa and the rest of the unit settled in for dinner, Ishetii went on the hunt for her brother. He mysteriously disappeared after not eating much of his food. Lyorien kept shooting him worried looks over his bowl of what they all hoped wasn’t felboar soup.

Ishetii cornered him after she finished her last grudging bite. “Did you see where my brother ran off to?”

He swallowed thickly and pointed in the direction of the chapel that the followers of the Light had erected. It was nothing special, just an enclave in the barracks. But it was quiet and secluded. Just the place that Falkhen would run to and wait for Ishetii to find him in.

She finally caught up with Falkhen, knelt before a small shrine to the Naaru with his prayer beads wrapped around his fingers. She knew he heard her approach because he stopped murmuring to himself and straightened his shoulders. “I swore and swore and swore my vows.”

The hurt tone struck Ishetii’s heart. She knew instantly what he was talking about. “Falkhen.” Her brows knit together as she took another step towards her brother and placed her hand on his shoulder. “The Light cannot help us all the time.”

“The Light abandoned our father when he needed it most.” He said sharply, before he hung his head and grabbed Ishe’s hand, murmuring an apology.

Ishetii sucked in a breath and knelt next to her brother, drawing her hands together into a prayer position. Her lips formed the words that she had been taught and rehearsed over and over again. She had known them by heart the first thirty times.

“You should be the Vindicator, Ishetii. You should be the Paladin of the Light. Not me.” He let his eyes fall when hers met his.

“Falkhen-”

“I will keep to this path, my sister. But I will not blindly follow it. Not like I used to.” He let out a small laugh. “I used to believe that the Light would always be there for us. That the Naaru would never turn their backs on their children, on their friends. I was wrong.” He stood up and left Ishetii with her own thoughts, his hoofsteps clacking off the stone floor of the barracks.


	7. Patrol

The endless scorching sun is what really gets to a soldier. Waiting, watching, anticipating. Ishetii and the others were lucky, if they could be called that, since they were given missions that had them going outside the Hold. They could leave the relative safety of Honor Hold and make preemptive strikes against the Fel Horde and other demons. This red waste was like to drive a person insane. Danger lurked everywhere, from the vicious Fel twisted boars to the Rockflayers and tunneling Crust Bursters that could pop from nowhere. They were ordered to travel in pairs. Their patrols were done in pairs. Going anywhere alone would get anyone into a hefty amount of trouble.

Falkhen and Lyorien were tasked with patrolling the outer perimeter while the rest of them made their way to a Fel Horde encampment. He feared for Ishetii’s safety, his eyes always finding the faraway base. For a while, it remained empty during their first pass into the village to the west of Honor Hold. Now it was filling up again. Falk asked to be put with the group that was sent back out there, Thalysa’s group, along with Ishetii. But he’d received a sword in his shoulder and leg, nearly through the hock, during their first mission out of the hold. Ishetii wanted him to rest and make sure that it didn’t get infected out here. Light only knew what kind of poisons the Fel Horde had started using.

A few week later he was up and walking with a crutch and the aid of either Ishetii or Lyorien. The three other silver haired members of their group remarked that he healed remarkably fast, nearly like they had seen Trolls do in battles. Falkhen had never seen a Troll in his life, nor was her sure that he wanted to. A savage people, or so the Night Elves claimed.

“Falk, how long do we have to patrol?” Lyorien’s wearied voice broke through his thoughts. Normally the boy was quiet, leaving them both to mulled over their lives while they walked. He looked down at the boy, who hurriedly dropped his gaze from Falk’s own. The boy had dirt caked into his face and his clothing had seen better days. He had finally listened to his Kaldorei friends and donned the armor that he had brought. Thick, darkly oiled leather covered him from head to toe. Embossed on the surface was a pattern rather like a serpent. What Lyo explained as snakes slithered their way across his chest to twine themselves together in the middle of his chest, near his heart. Light boots, a half helm and a mask that covered half his face. He didn't wear it now, though the cloth was a good way to keep the sand out of his mouth. Falk had taken to wrapping a light scarf around his mouth and nose so he could breathe after his patrols.

Falk wore his breastplate and legguards, along with his gorget and pauldrons as he patrolled. As much of a pain it was to get into he knew it was a better idea to stay on the safe side. At least now he didn’t have the crutch to worry about. It made getting his sword a struggle. He lumbered around even worse than normal in the shifting sand covered land. “Lyo, we just started.”

A long sigh came from the boy as he plodded along beside Falk. He rolled his eyes and nudged Lyo with his elbow. Lyorien was coming hard into the harsh reality that was warfare. Falkhen’s own people had to have this same awakening, on this very same planet, when the Orcs started attacking alongside the demons that plagued them for so long. Falk had been the same idealistic man. Believing that he should lead every fight instead of staying home with his mother and his father. “What made you want to join up with the Alliance and their war, Lyorien?” He hoped talking would entertain the youth for a little while, keep his mind off of the tediums of warfare.

“Glory.” He said simply, a smile curling at his lips.

Falk gave him a disapproving stare. Lyorien was the farthest from a glory seeker as could be. But perhaps there was more to Lyo than met the eye. Then Falk twisted his lips into his own smirk. “That so?”

Lyo’s ears drooped against his shoulders. Falk was learning the facial expressions that the Night Elves could have and a lot of it came from their ears. It seemed almost subconscious, to flatten one’s ears when they were angry or to droop them when upset or embarrassed. The faintest pricking when they were listening. They almost seemed to move independently of each other as well. “Well, no.” He stopped for a few seconds as they slid in the light packed sand traversed by many feet. “Because of my twin sister, her name is Sadrimyr. I’ve told you about her.”

“Only a half a dozen times.” Falk joked as they rounded the corner towards the barracks.

Lyo rolled his eyes and sighed. “Anyway, Sadri’s much stronger than I am. She’s always been better. Smarter. Faster. Father loved her more than he loved me.” He couldn’t hide the bitter edge to his voice, nor the way it wavered. “No matter how many times I tried to do my own things she always found a way to overshadow me.”

“Sounds like a, what’s the word.” He started waving his hand in the air, as if that could make the word come faster. “Whatever humans call those women dogs.” 

Lyorien looked at Falkhen with confusion plain on his face. Then it clicked. “A bitch?” Falk snapped his fingers and nodded. Falk kept his eyes on the boy’s face, watching for a twitch of a muscle that meant he was losing Lyorien to his shy nature. Only when they were alone did Lyorien talk so much. That, and when he was with the rest of his kind.

Lyo snorted. “No, Sadri’s alright. Father always said that he loved us equally. But he’d look at Sadri differently than me. Like, he saw through me.” He turned to Falk, his hand stopping him for a second, resting lightly on his plated bicep. “Have you ever had that feeling with Ishetii?”

A million different memories of his mother and father flashed across his mind’s eye. But none that said that Jiaan or Kaed preferred Ishetii over Falk. Of course they always had that sibling rivalry. It was a normal part of life, whether it was your twin or not. Falk shook his head at Lyo, shoving away the thoughts of his crazed father. “No, I’m sorry to say. I don’t understand.”

Lyo nodded. “It’s alright, Falk. There’s not much to understand.” Then his eyes widened and he drew out his weapon faster than Falkhen had ever seen. Even the Sentinels couldn’t match his speed. Then blood sprayed over the both of them as the head of a rather stealthy blood elf came rolling at Falkhen’s hooves. The blade he used was long and thin, the slightest curve to it. Perhaps it was as long as Lyorien’s arm. At the top of the hilt was a snake, gilded in silver with dark eyes, that kept his hand from slipping onto the razor sharp blade.

“And your sister is better than  _ that?” _ Falk said incredulously as he bent to pick up the head. It was a clean slice. The woman’s face was even still scrunched up in terror, her eyes wide, mouth drooped open. “I find that hard to believe.”

Falk could see Lyo searching for an answer. The desperation in his eyes, the way his mouth hung open. Finally, he ended up just shaking his head in agreement. “Sadri wouldn’t have even shown her fear. She wouldn’t have even stopped to look at you.”

“You didn’t look very fearful, Lyo.”

“I wasn’t afraid for myself.” He blurted. A dark flush spread across Lyorien’s face, even touching his ears after he realized what he had said. “I mean-”

Falk held up his hand, letting the head fall back to the earth. “We should report this,  _ Lyorien. _ ” He gave the boy a smirk and a wink, leaving the body for Lyorien to haul back to their leader.

~~~~~~

They handed off their half unfinished patrol to their relief. When the second pair thought to raise complaint Falkhen held up the head of the blood elf, still dripping blood. He’d left Lyorien outside with the rest. He was sure the barkeep preferred to keep as much blood off the floor as possible. 

Falkhen and Lyo made their way to the command center in silence, especially after Lyorien caught back up with Falk after he walked briskly from the tavern. Thought it wasn’t Falk’s doing. He let him have his silence. In all honesty, Falkhen was slightly shaken from Lyo’s display. Never before had he seen him fight, to see his expression change from his normal carefree smile to a mask of anger and fury.

The guards nearly stopped them on their way inside but yet again, Falkhen showed them the head. The guards let them pass without another word and even personally lead them up to the commander.

Danath Trollbane was a graying man turning swiftly to white. But he was no less intimidating. He was still strong and hardy as any man far younger. He had to have been to survive this long in this barren waste that had become Tanaan Jungle. Though Falkhen stood far taller than the Force Commander, he still had a deep respect for him. From the stories that some of the elder humans told, it would be hard not to.

Falkhen had traded with Lyorien, taking the body from his weary shoulder so that the boy wouldn’t flop out in the middle of what was sure to be a lengthy debriefing with the Force Commander. Commander Trollbane pursed his lips and looked up to Falk. “When.”

“Perhaps ten minutes ago.”

The grizzled commander grunted. “Good work.”

Falk shoved Lyorien forward. “Reality, sir, it was this one.” He gave Lyo what he hoped was an encouraging smile as he turned to face the Commander. Both Trollbane and Lyorien looked a bit confused.

Danath coughed. “Well. Falkhen, correct?” He butchered the pronunciation. The only people who seemed to get it remotely close was the Kaldorei. Humans always ended calling him after a predatory bird. After Falk grudgingly nodded he continued. “You are dismissed while I speak with Private Lyorien here.”

The boy started a little but quickly concealed his shock. The last thing Falkhen saw of Lyorien as the great door was swinging shut was him mouthing for Falkhen to stay.

~~~~~~

Falkhen was piss drunk by the time Lyorien had debriefed Trollbane on the encounter. He didn’t even bother to ask if the commander was going to ask him what happened. He supposed he should be used to this treatment by now.

Even though his people willingly joined the Alliance, it couldn’t smooth over old animosities quickly. Children would run from him. Humans would sneer and point. Kaldorei were more vocal, especially the ancient ones, but the younger generations could find acceptance in their hearts. At least the ones that Falkhen had travelled with.

_ They hate what they do not understand, Falkhen. They just don’t understand us yet. But they will. _ Ishe’s words came floating through the drunken haze of his mind. Always optimistic Ishetii. She saw nothing but the best when they came to Draenor or any of the other planets they stayed at before.

It had been a full day since any word came back from their outpost that she was sent to. They didn’t say just how long this operation was going to take. Falkhen just prayed that his sister stayed safe wherever she was. He would know if she was gone. He knew when she was hurt if she fell down and scraped her knee when they were just children. If he could do that, he was sure he’d feel something if she happened to die away from him.

He hadn’t even noticed Lyorien seated himself next to him until his strong Dwarven ale was replaced with a gentler Darnassian wine. The sickening sweetness lingered long after he took a sip. He set the glass down gently. Falk had broken too many of the dainty things setting them down a bit too harshly.

“Falkhen, he-” Lyo snapped his mouth shut and just sipped at his wine after Falk gave him one of his best grimaces. Why Lyorien felt the need to smooth Falk’s ruffled feathers, the Draenei had no clue. 

“You don’t have to make me feel better, Lyo.”

“I want to.” His hand came to rest on Falk’s bicep. “I want to be your friend, Falkhen.”

“Is that really all you want from me, Lyorien?” He said, none too gently. Lyorien jerked his hand from Falk’s arm and dropped his eyes to his lap. He picked at his nails, long and well kept, until blood started forming around them. Falk closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath to clear his clouded mind.

Lyorien jumped up and started to make his way out. Falkhen shot out a hand to stay him. He could easily make a circle around his wrist. He turned pale, then his dark flush crept up his neck to his cheeks. Falk couldn’t help but smirk. “You talk a lot about your father but never your mother.” Falk noted. Lyorien looked like he’d rather run and risk breaking his arm than stay and talk. “Tell me about her. Please.”

Lyorien met Falkhen’s eyes, searching in them for something that Falk could not place before he nodded and sat back down. “My mother was a sore spot for my father.” He spoke slowly, as if that would keep them unsaid. Lyorien swirled the wine in his glass before he started up again. “You could see how much he loved her. He’d tell me about her hair, green as Hyjal pines. About her soft laughter, her gentle way.” He stopped and smiled at that.

“He told us so often that I thought I knew her. I thought if I prayed hard enough to Elune that she’d let her come back to us and love us. That she’d save my father from his deteriorating mind. Sadri didn’t want to believe it.”

“Father told us she died. I’m not so sure I believe that.” He raised his eyes to meet Falk’s. “Sadri says she saw her. In the Temple of Elune in Darnassus. Alive and well and every bit what we thought she would be.” Lyorien smiled at that, a rueful smile. “But we never got the chance to talk to her. Sadri was shipped off to different parts of the world and I got send here.”

Falk cocked his head sipping down more of the sickly sweet wine. “How did Sadri feel?”

Lyorien shook his head sadly. “Hates her guts. It’s a hard truth to realize. Father protected us from her indifference our whole lives and Sadri felt the need to dig.” He looked so sad that Falk ordered something stronger. They both needed it if they were going to reopen old scabs.

They were a few cups in and a lengthy silence when Lyo poked his shoulder. “Tell me about your family.”

Falk took a long drink of his ale, licking the foam from his top lip. “Not much to tell.” He said as he turned slightly to face Lyorien.

“Oh, come on. I just poured out my heart to you, Falkhen and you’re going to give me nothing in return?” Lyorien leaned into his arm, putting on a begging expression. He even made his lip tremble as if he was going to cry.

Falk let out a long winded sigh. “Fine. Fine! Get off me!” He pushed the laughing Lyo back upright. “My mother,” He let his eyes fall closed. “My mother died here.”

All of Lyorien’s joking nature fled and his expression changed into one of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Falkhen. I didn’t-”

“It’s fine, Lyo.”

He quickly changed the subject. “So, what exactly are you?” Falk shot him a confused look, Lyo scrabbling to make himself clear. “Are you a paladin?”

“Paladin?”

“A warrior, blessed by the Light.” Lyorien said loftily, his fingers waggling dramatically.

“I do not believe in the Light.” He drained his cup this time. “I mean, I do, just not the whole heart.”

Lyorien smirked, the flush creeping further up his cheeks from the alcohol. “You’re a paladin that doesn’t believe in the Light? How do you still have your power?” He started snickering, little dribbles of ale sliding down his chin.

“I’m not exactly a paladin, I’m a vindicator-” He started to explain, wiping the ale from Lyo’s chin.

Lyorien waved him off, grabbing the barmaid and ordering some more ale. “Same thing.”

Falk sneered at him and continued. “I guess the Naaru haven’t given up on me yet.”

Then Lyorien kissed him.


	8. Returns

Falkhen pulled away slightly. Suddenly his head was very clear. Clear enough to choke out an apology and stumble from the table, leaving a very confused Lyorien gaping at him as he pushed his way out to his room. He needed to leave. Get out before he made any stupid moves.

He stumbled his way to his room. Fumbling with the knob as he fell against the door. It swung inwards, nearly making Falk face plant as it did so. As high an alcohol tolerance as Falk had, he’d been sitting and drinking. Standing, let alone practically running from the room, was enough to test anyone. He plopped down on the corner of his bed after he slammed his door shut after him.

Mihri’s face floats in front of him. Along with Dekaan’s. He wished that their ghosts would stop following him with every step he took. He mourned them. He’d moved on. The end of each relationship was mutual and parted gently. There was nothing hurtful hurled at each other as they left. There was no awkwardness. But still he couldn’t help his mind turning to what they might think. They were long dead, no doubt, crushed under the heels of Orcs and demons. He was sure Dekaan would be happy for him. Mihri might be a different story.

Mihri wanted what was best for him, he had no doubts, but she also was Falkhen’s first. She thought they would be together forever even though they drifted apart along the way. They both thought they would be together forever. No matter that their small forever had been a few years. Something about Mihri changed when they left the Genedar for Draenor. Maybe it was losing her parents along the way. Or the constant threat of Kil’jaeden and the Burning Legion that followed them to every planet. She’d always been more nervous with each flight from their homes.

He fell backwards against the softness of his mattress. His tail nervously curled and uncurled against the bedpost, tapping against the wood. He tried to count the beams on the ceiling to focus on something other than the whirling emotions in his drunken mind. It was like trying to grab onto water. It just didn’t work. He was left staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts taking him in circle after circle.

~~~~~~

He didn't know when he finally drifted off to sleep but when he woke, his head was throbbing in time with his heart. His mouth was dry as he surveyed his room. A tall pitcher of water stood on the table in the corner, along with a note. The spidery script was nearly incomprehensible to Falk’s dry eyes, but after an overflowing glass he could at least make an attempt.

 

_ Falkhen, _

_ I apologize for my behavior last night. It was unseemly of me to be so blunt. Take this water as a token of my apologies. I would have given it to you more personally but you were already asleep by the time I sobered up enough to think properly. If you want to talk, I’ll be in my room. _

_ Lyorien _

Falk sighed and folded up the note, plopping onto the corner of his bed. He dropped his head into his hands and thought. He thought of his mother and the being that his father had become. He thought of his twin, whether or not she was safe in Hellfire Citadel. He thought of his previous loves, long lost on this planet. He thought of what they would want for him. Whether or not they would be disappointed or happy for him.

He had the feeling that Ishetii had been trying to push the two of them together ever since the two of them had met Lyorien.

There was something else about Lyorien than the shy persona he wore when he was around others. It cracked when he was around Falkhen. He saw a wounded boy. A boy struggling to make his own name in a world that had been dominated by his larger than life twin. He saw anguish and anger in those silver eyes, flecked with chips of gold. Falkhen saw his cold side when he hacked off the blood elf’s head with hardly any effort.

How dangerous did that make Lyorien?

Was he willing to overlook what he figured out about this strange night elf?

He made a choice, and stood.

~~~~~~

He knocked on Lyorien’s door, hesitating at first before he committed. Three loud raps at the solid wood. He heard a book thump to the ground inside before the door swung inwards.

Lyorien appeared, silvery hair curling around his face in little wisps. It framed his face rather nicely, in Falk’s opinion. This close, he could see the smattering of freckles across his nose. Without his hair tied back, he looked years younger, curly silvered strands haloing his head. Falk let one curl around his finger, letting his thumb brush across Lyo’s cheek. He gaped up at Falkhen as he pushed the door closed behind him with hardly a word spoken.

Lyorien brought his hand up slowly over Falk’s, eyes glassy, a flush creeping over his cheeks. He melted into his palm, eyelids fluttering shut, mouth dropping open the slightest bit. His breath was warm across his palm. He could feel Lyorien’s long lashes brushing against his hand as well.

“Dalah kesukaen.” Lyorien whispered. “Ru-”

Falkhen cut him off with a kiss, barely enough to brush his lips, but the effect was the same. Lyorien’s nails dug into Falk’s shoulder. He broke the kiss for a moment before he leaned down and picked up Lyorien, letting his legs wrap around his waist.

Their eyes met. Finally on level with each other. A silent conversation between those eyes. Blue and silver. Then Lyorien grabbed hold of Falk’s blond locks and pushed their lips together as Falk carried him to his bed.

It took no time to get undressed. To find something suitable to make the way easier was a different story, though they did find it eventually.

Lyorien bit at his collarbone again, leaving yet another mark, and used the distraction to roll on top of Falkhen, legs on either side of his hips. Falk smirked when Lyorien’s eyes widened after he happened to get a feel what he was in store for. “Anar-Elune.” He whispered, reaching behind himself and easing down.

He let his head fall back, Falk’s hands on Lyorien’s hips. He let out his own hiss when Lyo bottomed out. “Not the first.” He didn't pose it as a question. More of an observation.

Lyorien shook his head, curls bouncing as he did so, a smile ghosting over his perfectly swollen lips. “No.” The syllable was long, drawn out, as he rocked slowly. Falkhen let him do as he pleased, though he did keep his hands on Lyo’s hips. “But, the biggest.” He bit his lip, letting out a squeak when Falkhen started rocking in time with Lyorien, meeting him halfway. 

It spurred Lyorien on. Playing a game to win back that pleasure once again. Faster and faster they went in the chase. Lyorien’s mouth dropped open, head lolling back, curls bouncing around his shoulders. Sunshine bathed both of them in a golden light, reflecting the sheen of sweat that covered them. In that moment, Falk let his eyes fall closed, relishing in the sounds, letting it wash over him. Before he knew it, Lyorien was easing himself off of Falk, falling against his chest, listening to the thunder that was his heartbeat.

Lyorien was grinning from ear to ear. All happy and warm and tired.

Both were.

~~~~~~

Everyone said that they hadn’t seen Lyorien nor Falkhen since chow time last night. Though Ishetii hadn’t learned that expression yet, she still nodded and went to Lyorien’s room. She hoped that they hadn’t fought while she was gone. Falk could be moody when he was worried. Plus, Lyorien was such a sweet boy, Falk not thinking and saying harsh words would probably scar the boy. When she reached his door, she gave it a soft knock. “Lyorien? It’s Ishetii. Are you in there?” She tested the knob, finding it unlocked, she started to push open the door.

Ishetii heard fumbling around and the crash of a glass before Falk opened the door a crack, hiding his body behind it. “Sister.” He said sleepily. The Draenic caught her off guard. They hardly spoke it unless they were alone together. It made the others uncomfortable.

Ishe arched a brow. “Where’s Lyorien, Falkhen?” She followed his lead and spoke their native language, trying to peer around Falk’s body. He did a good job of filling up a space, especially tiny ones.

“Out.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Falkhen,” She curled her lips into a smirk. “Lyorien, you can come out.”

Falk let his eyes fall closed. “He cannot.”

She bit her lip to try and hold back her grin. “Is that so?” She snickered at his dark flush. “You missed your patrols, Falkhen. Best go see the Commander.” She let her smile finally creep over her face at his panicked look. Ishetii shook her head and backed away, leaving the both of them to do whatever they pleased. But as much as it made her happy that Falkhen was finally with someone after the loss of Mihri, she couldn’t let an opportunity to tease him pass. It was a duty she took seriously as a sister. Later, she’d give them both hell. For now, they could romp around as much as they wanted.


	9. Shattrath

Ishetii looked around the room. Every single one of Huntress Stormbow’s soldiers was there, along with the Huntress herself. She’d finally made her appearance, flanked by one who had that strange color shifting blue-black hair. She shook off the images of Kerai and Hessia. Her son was dead. And this hair was common enough, she was sure, that it couldn’t be any relation.

She’d heard about their arrival through the grapevine of Kyena’s detachment. Even Thalysa was surprised that Kyena came so quickly. From what she had heard, the Huntress hadn’t planned on coming to Outlands.

She looked at the vaguely familiar faces. The only one she truly knew was Thalysa. The rest she was not that close with. Even though she’d fought with them since they came through the Dark Portal. Perhaps it was something they’d learned throughout the years. To keep to themselves and not worry about the outsiders. Perhaps they saw Ishetii and Falkhen as nothing more than other bodies that the enemy would have to go through to get to them.

“What did you call me here for, Commander Trollbane?” Kyena sounded almost bored. Ishetii was surprised at her insubordination. The way she said it made Ishetii’s eyes flick over to the elf. She was tall, that much was true. Tall and muscular. She looked like she could take on an Orc and come out on top. Long dusky purple hair was done up into a sort of braided mess that vaguely resembled a crest, coming from her forehead to the nape of her neck. Her armor was a mix of leather and mail, with some plate here and there. A leather doublet under a plate and mail chestpiece. Leather gloves with plate gauntlets. A massive bow was across her back, along with a sword that lightly shimmered in its sheath.

Her blue haired companion was similarly armored, though his was more plate than mail. A large sword, nearly a twin to the one that Huntress Stormbow had, was strapped to his waist, the hilt against the side of his stomach.

Trollbane clenched his jaw. “I have requests for more troops in other regions. With influxes of adventurers and soldiers coming into Honor Hold, I thought it prudent to send out the ones that had been here the longest first. At least they might not die so quickly not knowing the dangers of this land.”

Kyena thought for a moment before she nodded. “Where are we going then?”

“I have the most requests in Shadowmoon Valley, though Nagrand could use some forces as well.”

Kyena turned to her group. “We go to Shattrath first, then Nagrand, double up some guard there for a few weeks. Then we’ll hit Shadowmoon and take down that pompous prick.”

She spoke such fast common that Ishe couldn’t keep up, hearing only Shattrath. Shattrath City. She wondered if the Harbor was still there. She had no clue who would even inhabit the city. The city where Kaed stayed behind, Ishet trying to drag him with Serah and Falkhen. She thought of Jilaana running with Muti and Ahomat. She thought of how Braniir had even tried to sway Kaed’s mind but the Vindicator would not be moved.

How could she go back to this city of ghosts? How much of it was left?

Ishetii wasn’t sure how ready she was to see what the Horde had done to Draenor.

~~~~~~

They arrived at Shattrath City a handful of days later.

If it could even still be called a city.

It was nothing like Ishetii remembered. The harbor was gone. The happiness that seemed to lace the very air when she strolled through was gone. The people were gone. All that was left was anguish and pain. Orphaned children ran about the city. Krokul had set up shops in the lower ring of the once wondrous city.

She missed the smells most of all. The smells of cooking food and spices and the salty tang of the sea in the harbor, along with the smells of fish wafting in the breeze. She missed the sweetness that lingered in the air, the calm bustle of the city filled with people who finally felt at peace.

Kyena let them loose in the city, instructing them not to piss her off and to not get into any trouble. Falkhen wandered off with Lyorien off to do Light knew what. Ishetii liked having some solitude for a bit, it let her show her emotions without someone wanting her to talk about them. She adjusted the pack on her back and set to wander.

Ishe found an inn that had been made in some of the rubble. She remembered the harp that Kerai had given her. She had the genius thought to bring it along with her, still wrapped in the cloth that Kerai had it in. It looked relatively full, a strange mix of Krokul, Alliance and Horde. She slipped in quietly and found an empty corner where she could prepare.

When she pulled out the harp, immediately she was pulled back to the times she performed in front of the crowds at Embaari Village, even in a smaller venue in Shattrath. She loved performing, she loved the joy it brought to her people to hear their familiar songs once more. 

Quietly, she eased the harp into tune and started playing.

A hush came over the boisterous crowd as they all looked to see where the music was coming from.

Her fingers were rusty, stumbling over the slow song as she played but a few of the Krokul looked at her as though she was a Naaru come to bless them again. An old song she played, one of the first she had learned growing up. Ishetii couldn't remember what purpose the song served, though she heard it plenty of times at celebrations.

As her fingers warmed up, she moved into more complex songs, ones for dancing and singing along. Ishetii chanced a look from her hands, seeing that everyone was doing their own dances to the song together. Ishe didn't fight her smile, her voice joining with the Draenei and Krokul that were singing.

On and on she played, until her fingers were cramping from the hours of playing. She caught a glimpse of Kyena watching from the doorway, her own smile on her lips. It was almost as shocking as seeing her father again. From what she had heard and seen, it was nearly impossible to make Kyena smile.

“You play beautifully.” She said as she came closer. “I've never heard such sad songs.”

“Many times it's the only songs we have left. Mourning songs.” Ishetii untuned the harp so it wouldn't warp and wrapped it back up. “Slowly, more and more of us are worn away by time.” She gave Kyena a look and shook her head. “I suppose that's morbid.”

“I understand the feeling.” Kyena rubbed a spot on her glove thoughtfully. “My people have lost much as well. Perhaps we are not so different after all.”

Kyena stuck out her hand towards Ishe, which she took right away. Kyena snickered when she only took her hand. “My people clasp forearms, like this,” She pulled Ishe’s hand higher to clasp her forearm in her hand, Kyena’s doing the same. A firm shake and it was done. “I am Kyena Stormbow, Commander of this little ragtag group.”

“Ishetii, of the Genedar.”

Kyena looked confused. “Never heard of it.”

“It was a Naaru vessel. It took us to Draenor long ago. My earliest memories are from that ship. I grew up there.” She explained quickly, slinging her pack over her back once more.

“How old are you, Ishetii?” Kyena asked as they started walking back to meet up with the group.

Ishetii shook her head. “No idea. Fairly old?”

Kyena eyed her, another grin coming over her mouth. “Ru shuirfas dalah, Ishetii di Genedar.” She said in Darnassian, patting her on the back.


	10. Nagrand

“Huntress, we’ve found all of the supplies.” One of the Hippogryph riders said breathlessly. It had to be Shora, though Ishetii wasn’t sure. Her hair was a mossy green, tied back into a tail. Her markings curved across her forehead and down her nose, almost like a massive branching tree. The others came up behind her, all carrying their provisions that would add to the supplies at Telaar.

Ishetii shot Kyena a look, her brow arched. “You needed to see your city.” She said simply. She spent a few minutes looking through the supplies, making sure that everything was there and accounted for. Kyena said something quickly in Darnassian, making the women disband towards the baggage carts, pulled by teams of Elekks. They were noble beasts, ones that filled Ishetii’s heart with wonder when she first saw them. Beasts of burden, they quickly became, loaded with the sacks and packages of food.

“Thank you.” Ishetii said when Kyena came back, leading both her saber, a silvery purple beast, and two talbuks. She shoved the reins in Ishetii’s hands. “What’s this for?” She asked as she ran the leather through her fingers. They looked like hardy beasts, strong enough to carry orcs, why not Draenei? Ishetii had never ridden once since she fled Draenor and she preferred the Elekks anyway. She felt as if she could carry the world in her hands when she was on their backs.

“We can’t have you and your brother lagging behind. I bought these for you. I hope they’re strong enough to carry you.” She eyed Ishetii again, her lips pursed. “Don’t thank me. Thank Jaleth for letting you wander.” She nodded towards the other girls and they mounted up, Kyena’s saber slithering to the front with ease. It was a strange sight to see these massive cats move. Almost like they were made of water and moving soundlessly as shadows.

Falkhen showed up just as Ishetii mounted her talbuk. “Where in the world did you manage to buy talbuks?” He took the reins that Ishetii offered him, the larger of the pair. His thick legs wouldn’t buckle under Falk’s muscle, at least not right away.

“Kyena bought them for us so we could keep up.” She put her foot into the stirrup of Falk’s beast so the saddle wouldn’t slide as he hauled himself on it’s back. “We best hurry so we don’t lose sight of them, brother.”

“Yes yes, always in a hurry.” He put his hooves to the talbuk’s side, taking off after the last wagon, Ishetii hard on his heels.

~~~~~~

They passed through and out of the crystal Terokkar Forest without problem. As thick trees slowly gave way to the open expanse of Nagrand, Ishetii felt a pull towards the place. She remembered running through the tall grass with her old Orcish friends, probably long gone by now. She remembered the sweet smell of sun warmed grass, of the coolness of the water outside her aunt’s home. She remembered playing with Muti and Ahomat here.

“It’s not even the same.” Falkhen commented, looking up at the shattered sky. The Twisting Nether stretched this way and that above them. Ishetii wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to the sight that had become Draenor’s sky. Though it was just a faint suggestion in this brighter patch of Outlands. “I remember being with Muti and Ahomat during the summers. Light, it was hot. I’m glad they had that swimming hole for us though.”

Ishetii cast another glance to the sky, wondering how Jilaana and Ahomat and Muti were faring. Braniir was probably teaching the new warriors how to fight. Jilaana might have had her baby by now. The thought punched Ishe in the gut. She had another cousin and she had no idea if they were a boy or a girl or if they were healthy and strong. “Jilaana’s baby. I wonder how they’re doing.”

Falk sighed. “Through all of this I'd forgotten.” He gave Ishe a sad look. “I hope they’re all okay back on the Exodar.”

“Back home, you mean?” Ishetii observed him out of the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction.

His mood lifted slightly. He graced her with a smile. “Yes. Back home.” They both plodded on behind the procession of wagons and animals headed to Telaar. “Do you think it's the same place as Telaari Station?”

“They do sound awfully familiar.” They came over a rise, Telaar below them a good ways. “Perhaps we'll find out soon enough.”

Lyorien was stopped on his saber, waiting for the both of them. “Kyena sent me to wait for you, see how you were doing.”

Fallen smirked at him. “Was it Kyena or yourself that did so?”

At least he had the decency to blush. “Depends. What do I get out of it if I tell the truth?”

“Depends.” Falk’s smirk turned predatory.

“Ugh, you two are disgusting.” Ishetii clamped her knees to her talbuk, trotting ahead of the lovebirds.

She caught sight of an old man, bent, but still thickly muscled. A girl was with him along with what Ishetii thought was another male at first but turned out to be female. She was a monster in every sense of the word, thickly muscled as any male orc and just as tall as one. She had especially savage look to her, aided by the metal plated tusks she sported. Her black hair was done into a warrior's crest, a tattoo down her chin that met with the others on her neck and shoulders. Luckily, they didn't seem like they were too armored up but that didn't mean that they weren't looking for a fight.

Then the other female stood upright, just as tall as the savage looking orc female. But something marked her as different. A freak of nature.

Horns sprouted from her head, curling proudly around her head. Instantly she was reminded of her mother's horns.

“I know you, Uruna.” She said quietly, pulling her talbuk to a stop a distance away from them, not challenging. Just to regard the trio.

Fallen and Lyorien finally caught up with her. “What do you see, sister?” He narrowed his eyes to catch a glimpse of whatever had caught her attention.

Quickly she shook her head. “Nothing, must be the heat. See how it makes the land shimmer?” She edged her talbuk past Falk and Lyo, making their animals shy and go back to the wagon path.

They'd finally made it to Telaar.

Ishetii tore her way towards the provisions dealer, coming up with some excuse to fill a pack with some food and water for a quick reunion. The officer let her past without much fuss. It also helped that it was an old friend, one who knew about Uruna and Hunthos.

“Good luck, Ishetii.” Quuil gave her an extra bit of water and was about to send her on her way when a shadow entered the space.

“Leaving so soon?” Kyena’s voice sounded dangerous. A low rumble not unlike a saber’s growl.

“I don’t need your permission.” Ishetii shoved a few more things into her pack. She had seen him, she knew it. An old bent man now, but it was still him. Perhaps even she was still there.

“You do. But I’m not going to stop you.”

Ishetii stopped short. “Why?” The pack was suspended halfway between the ground and her shoulder.

Kyena touched the palm of her right glove thoughtfully. It was almost a habit of hers, Ishe noted. “I did some asking around in Shattrath. I know that they draenei had a few orcish children while they were here.”

She just looked at Kyena as she spoke, resolving not to speak. She didn't know what game Kyena was playing at but if she thought she could send Ishe to kill these halfling children she was mistaken.

Kyena took that as answer enough. “You have a halfling, don't you?” Her quicksilver eyes met Ishe’s.

She had no choice but to answer. “Yes.”

“Well, that settles it. Go find them.” She turned to leave, snagging an apple on her way out, giving the officer a wink as she bit into it with an audible crunch.

Ishe caught up with her a few steps outside of the building. “Why are you helping me?”

Kyena paused midbite, regarding Ishe thoughtfully. “If I was in your position, I'd want to know what became of my children.”

Slowly, she felt a kinship with Kyena Stormbow. “People say you're a bitch.” She nearly posed it as a question. Perhaps not many people had seen this side of the huntress.

She smiled at that. “Then let them say it. I am who I am.” She gave Ishetii a wink and continued on her way, whistling one of the songs Ishetii had played at the inn.


	11. Mag'har

They were still in the same spot when she reined her talbuk in. Then it came to here, the shape of the trees, the little crevice in the rock face.

This was where they met. She supposed the ruins of Jilaana and Braniir’s home was somewhere around here.

The strange orc was still there, her hand holding up her massive axe. She watched over the both of them and saw Ishe's advance.

Ishe took a deep breath and hopped from the talbuk, drawing the reins over it's head and coming closer. “Greetings, friends.” She extended a traditional gesture to the both of them. The old orc looked up at her and smiled, reaching out his hand to play with the talbuk’s nose.

"Who is she father?” Uruna asked when Hunthos made no move to drive her off. “Who is she?” Uruna prompted.

“A good friend, child. Do not worry about her.” He reclined against the trunk of the tree, winds blowing all around them.

Ishe took that as an invitation to sit. She pulled her bag of provisions in front of her, offering some to her host. “Do you still belong to the Warsong?” She asked as he perused her supplies, snatching up a sweet fruit.

“The Warsong are no more. They threw me out after...Uruna.” He munched on the soft flesh of the thinly skinned fruit. He watched her unbuckle her swords from her sides and set them against the tree. “They call her the Halfblood.”  

Ishetii flicked her eyes to Uruna. “You didn’t tell her why?”

"Never. I thought it would’ve been something you wanted. To protect her.” Ishetii smiled at that thought. Even after she left, Hunthos thought of her. “Instead, we were on our own for a long time, then the Mag’har came to be. Here we are.”

“Father, you should rest.” Uruna knelt next to her aging father, covering his legs with a light blanket.

She held out the sack to Uruna. “Take something, friend.” She urged, taking in Uruna’s striking features. She had a softer face than most orcs, tending more towards Draenic features in the face, though she did have the tiniest of tusks jutting from her bottom jaw.

Uruna nodded, looking suspiciously at Ishetii before she pulled out a random hunk of dried meat. Their eyes met for a moment and Ishe couldn't have been more elated. Draenei eyes stared back at her, the brightest blue she'd ever seen. They contrasted nicely against the dark brown of her skin.

“What is it you want to know?” He inquired when Ishe tore her eyes from Uruna. He smiled at her confused expression and grabbed her hand. “I know that look, Ishetii.” he said when she arched a brow at him.

She let out a sigh and wrapped her fingers around his calloused hands, still as strong as she remembered it. The two others took a few steps away, pretending not to hear as they split the meat Uruna had taken. “Has it been hard?”

“Not as hard as I thought.” He coughed for a moment before he went on. “She doesn’t age. She hasn’t since she turned...I don’t know. It’s strange for me as well. I should be joining my ancestors by now, but here I am. Still. After all this time.”“

"Perhaps she has more Draenei in her than we thought.” Ishe mused. “Who is the other that’s with her?”

“Her name is Tekarka. She was a gladiator, since she was old enough to swing an axe. We never could find her parents or where she came from, though Shedas came and brought her here.” He regarded Ishetii again. “She has no tusks, not even a hint of them. Apparently her parents thought that was an omen and dumped her off at the fighting ring.” “

"Poor girl.”

Hunthos laughed long and hard. “Poor girl? She’s strong as a damn Mountain Gronn. I don’t think anyone here could take her on. Damn, she’s smart too. She wears you out before she goes in for the kill.”I

Ishetii smirked. “You like her.”

His warm brown eyes met hers. “She reminds me of someone I knew.”

Het heart did flips in her chest at his gaze. She deflected the conversation to more important topics. “We’re assaulting the Black Temple soon.”“

"Luck be with you, then.”

“I didn’t want to die not knowing my daughter.”

Hunthos smiled again. “We should never have attacked the Draenei. You were not our enemies.” He fell into another fit of coughing, blood appearing on his lips. “Dammit. I thought I had more time.”

Ishe couldn't hide her alarm. “Hunthos!” Ishe surged forward, not caring whether whatever he had was contagious. “Are you alright, Soran?”

Uruna and Tekarka came back to them when they heard her cry. Uruna knelt next to her father, tears threating her eyes. ”Father?”

“I'm not dead yet.” He grumbled. “Uruna, there's something I need to tell you before I join our ancestors.”

She nodded vigorously at him. “Whatever you need me to know, father.”

He turned his head towards Ishe and grabbed up her hand again. “This is Ishetii of the Genedar and of Draenor. She honored me by hunting with me many years ago. We were together.” He fell into another fit of coughing before continuing. “And she is your mother.”

Uruna looked at Ishe with a mix of awe and relief. “I thought they killed you long ago.” She whispered.

“They didn't quite get to me.” Ishe said, her lip trembling. “I would have come if I could have, Uruna.”

She threw her arms around Ishe's neck. “I don't care, mother, you're here now. You found me.”

“There's my girls.” Hunthos breathed, head collapsing backwards against the tree as his last breath left him.

The trio all bowed their head to him for a moment, letting tears leak from their eyes. Even the stoic Tekarka had her own tears. Perhaps Hunthos had taken the girl under his wing, seeing Uruna in the supposed freakish girl when she came to the Mag’har Seeing their rejection of her must've stirred his sentimental heart.

They quickly built a sort of pyre so his soul could reach his ancestors at the Oshu’gun. They all watched in silence as they flames burned away what was left of Hunthos, Tekarka's axe in place of his. When Ishe asked, she had said it was once his and he should take it with him for honor’s sake.

Ishe couldn't have disagreed. She knew it's what Hunthos would have wanted.

“I can't take you back with me, Uruna.” Ishe couldn't keep the pain from wavering her voice. She had no idea what the Alliance would think of her bringing an obvious orc half-breed of some kind into Telaar. Even the Krokul and Draenei that were there wouldn't be too fond of her.

Uruna nodded slowly. “I think the Mag’har is my home until you have need of me again, mother.” She reached over for Ishe's hand. “Don't forget me, mother.”

“I couldn't for a thousand years, Uruna.” She smiled at her. “Did Hunthos teach you how Draenei greet?”

She shook her head. “No, he didn't think it was right for him to teach me.”

Ishe nodded. “I wouldn't have minded. He was always so worried about offending me. I think he should have been born a Draenei for how quickly he took to our customs.” She turned Uruna so they were facing each other and bent slowly forward until her crest touched Uruna's forehead. Softly, she breathed in, Uruna quickly following along with her. She let her eyes close for a moment before she pulled away.

“Archenon poros.” She said. Uruna  mirrored her, something like awe coming into her eyes. Ishe arched her brow at her daughter. “What's that look, Runa?”

She looked at the smoke rising above the tall grass wistfully. “Now I feel complete. Now I know where I really come from. Both halves of my ancestors.” She regarded Ishetii again. “I can feel both of them around me now. They walk with me. They guide my way.”

Ishe smiled at the thought. Perhaps her mother and siblings walked with her too, helping her along her way. She liked the thought of Serah guiding her niece in her trials. “Trust in them, neither side will let you down.”


	12. Black Temple

Their time in Nagrand went by quietly after Hunthos’ death. Not one major attack against the Alliance nor the Horde as they stepped closer and closer to the Black Temple and Shadowmoon Valley. It was a nice respite to not have to worry about being attacked by two different groups.

Ishetii kept watch over the expanse of Nagrand, her eyes drifting out to the pyre that they had built. Her mind drifted back to the night they spent exchanging their stories with each other; Tekarka of her time with the gladiators, Uruna with memories of her father. She told them of how they met and why Ishetii had to leave Uruna with her father during the escalation of conflicts between the Draenei and the Orcs. She could see the anger that welled up in her daughter's eyes at the stories of slaughter.

No one had questioned why she came back smelling of smoke and charred flesh.

Kyena had come to her after she had returned. She sat with Ishetii for a while, both in silence.

Most of their mission was just to aid the people of Telaar. Most of the time, Kyena sent one of her Sentinels to do whatever was asked. The huntresses would volunteer before Kyena had to go and give orders, their sabers in tow. She told the Hippogryph Riders to take to the sky and scout the land and search for any sign of the Legion making a foothold here.

“Ishetii.” Kyena's voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“Yes, Huntress Stormbow?” she turned slowly towards her. She had wondered if Kyena would want the truth of what happened out there. After that hour or two of silent companionship, she left without so much as a word, just a whisper of her boots against the ground.

“We're moving out with a larger force to join up with the ones in Shadowmoon. It's time to end this.”

Ishetii gave her a slow nod. “Let's end this.”

~~~~~~

Back in the talbuk saddle, Falk at her right and Lyorien at her left on his saber. She couldn't help but feel the ghost of a smile creep on her lips. They were going to war. Pushing back against the Legion. They would make a stand here and never back down. Never retreat.

She would liberate the people she left behind. She would save the Krokul and give them a planet worth living on. She would fight for the Mag’har and their protection of Uruna.

She would fight for Kyena if she ever needed her until her last day. She resolved herself to that fact. Something about the huntress begged to be followed. She was a natural born leader, someone that inspired Ishetii to fight for Azeroth.

~~~~~~

Shadowmoon Valley. Her home for so many years. Now it was a landscape of corruption and demons. The Twisting Nether was fully visible here. The acrid tang of demon magic was everywhere. Karabor. The beautiful Temple of Karabor was the seat of Illidan’s power in Outlands.

It made Ishetii sick. The exploitation of Outlands by this demonic mongrel had gone on long enough.

They had made a forward camp just before the gates of the Black Temple. Kyena pulled up her group just before it, surveying the Black Temple with a glare. “We will be one of the second groups inside. Stick together and we'll be home in time for bed.” She slid from her saber's back, taking off the packs and heading towards a tent. Jaleth followed her closely, his own packs slung across his back.

Lyorien and Falk went off on their own way. Most of the Sentinels went off with each other to don their armor and make ready for their battle to come. Ishetii was left staring up at the expanse of the temple with disgust curling her lip. She remembered coming here as a youth for festivals and births and marriages. She dreamed of the day that her mother and father would let her join the anchorites or even the vindicators.

But that day never came. She learned out of necessity. Her and Falkhen both were thrust into the art of war in the wake of the orcish attacks when this was still Draenor.

One of the scouts came up to Ishetii, her dark clothes almost making her hard to see in the gloom that pervaded Shadowmoon. “Do you need help getting into your armor, Ishetii?” The woman’s hair was a dark green, nearly black in the light. Asledraeth Bearheart, it had to have been. One of these days, Ishetii would learn the names of these sentinels and put their names to their faces.

She held out the saddlebag that held her armor. “I’d be nice to have some help.” She admitted as Asledraeth took it from her hands, their fingers brushing for just a moment. The night elf looked up at Ishetii through her lashes before she motioned for her to follow.

Ishetii couldn’t help but smirk as she quietly pumped the air with her fist before following after the scout.

~~~~~~

“I hope you don’t mind if this doesn’t really,” Asledraeth sighed as she tightened a strap on Ishe’s greaves. “Go anywhere.” She said after a pause.

Ishe covered her hand with her own, stopping her from putting the finishing pieces on. “I didn’t expect it to, Asledraeth.” Her eyes narrowed at Asledraeth. Her fingers were shaking on the last buckle. “You’re afraid that we’re going to die.”

“I’m afraid that _Kyena_ is going to die.” Draeth said quickly, lacing her fingers together to keep them from shaking. “She saved us and trained us. She raised a few of us herself. We lived in Elunheim with her and Jaleth. We know her children.” She took a breath to keep her voice from cracking further. “She’s more than this, though, she’s a relic of a piece of lost history. Dracon Ma’kyu.”

Ishetii knit her brows together. She might have heard that phrase in passing a few times after Kyena came to Outlands but never understood what it meant. “What does it even mean? I’ve heard of it but no one explained.”

Asledraeth sat on the edge of the cot and looked up at Ishe. “Have you ever seen her without her glove on?” 

Ishetii had to shake her head at that. 

“Do you notice how she rubs the right when she’s thinking?” Ishetii nodded at that. “She has a pattern on her palm, it feels no different than the surrounding skin. It’s not raised nor rough. But there is a patch of scales there, the same color as her normal skin. She doesn’t like to show anyone.” Asledraeth mused for a moment, her lips pursed. Ishetii fought the urge to kiss them one last time. “She supposedly has another patch like that just below her collarbone, above her heart. Though no one’s confirmed that.”

Ishe sat next to Draeth, her head cocked. “Why does she have that?”

“I suppose I never really explained what it meant. Dracon Ma’kyu means,” She mused for a second, flipping back and forth between Darnassian and Common. “Dragonmarked would be the closest translation.”

The confusion still hadn’t left Ishe. “I still don’t understand what it  _ means. _ Why is this important for me to know?”

Draeth smiled a sad little smile, barely curling the corners of her mouth. “It means that she can ride dragons. If she could find the Dragonqueen, the Aspect would be honor bound to let one of her brood come with Kyena if they wish to. She’s a part of a legacy that I, along with every one of her unit, would like to keep alive.”

Ishetii felt the enormity of what Draeth was saying. How she wished that there were aspects of her own history and culture that could have been preserved and saved throughout the years. But, much like their homeworld, they had to leave some of it behind throughout the years and planet-hopping. She knew the pain of watching something that had been so central to one’s life slowly becoming a relic of the past.

“I will protect her with my own life, Asledraeth. Do not question my loyalties.” She knew what Asledraeth wanted now. Perhaps the elf didn’t know when she first invited Ishetii along but she knew now.

She nodded and handed Ishetii her crystalline swords. “Then take back Outlands, in her name and in the name of your people.”

 


	13. Outlands Reclaimed

Her arms were tired. They were dead weight. She didn’t know how she still held her swords. She thudded after Falkhen and Kyena at a distance through the whole of Black Temple, fighting through enemy after enemy.

Finally, they found the dungeons below.

Kyena brought their little group towards one cell in particular. A shadowed figure was huddled in one corner, far from the sudden light that Kyena's torch brought. “ _Maiev?”_ She hissed, shoving open the bars of the cage. “Maiev Shadowsong.”

The woman was beaten and bruised but there a was glimmer in her. Whether it was madness from her time spent in the cells or fierce stubborn pride, Ishetii could not tell. “That's _Warden_ Shadowsong.” She looked around at the group, not without a touch of gratitude. “Where are my weapons? My armor? My prey is here somewhere.”

Kyena smirked at the warden and jerked her head at Thalysa. “Get her ready. It's time to find Akama.”

~~~~~~

They came sprinting up the stairway to the very top of the Black Temple. Akama was at the lead, along with members of his Ashtongue. Illidan looked at them with a sneer, his massive wings flapping lazily about himself.

He was monstrous. Half demon half night elf. A betrayer to his people and to Kalimdor. To Azeroth. A murderer and cruel master to the people who followed him.

A portal yawned open before him.

Ishetii caught a glimpse of pine green hair, of curling horns like the rams of the Dwarves, before the figure disappeared into the portal.

“Azshulaena?” Came Kyena’s voice. The demon hunter turned briefly back, her mouth opened slightly, but the portal closed before she could say anything.

“Kyena.” Illidan chortled. “You knew Azshulaena?”

She hissed at him, drawing Jai’alator. It glowed silver, striking against the relative darkness of Shadowmoon, against the metal of her armor. “She’s my niece.”

He cast his eyes down for a moment, almost sincere. “Then I'm sorry for whatever comes next for her.” He readied his dreadblades against the host that had gathered in front of him. From Akama to Ishetii.

Kyena was the first to strike. An arrow, silent yet accurate, hit him squarely in the joint of his arm, making him nearly drop one of the blades, greenish blood leaking from around it.

Quickly, the rest of Kyena's unit followed her lead, pulling out their bows to wound his wings, his arms, his legs. Anything to slow him.

Maiev was waiting on the sidelines, along with her fellow Wardens. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike as well. He saw her run out with her Wardens in tow, their circular moon swords gleaming against the light of Draenor’s moon.

“Your fight is over, Illidan. Give up while you can!”

He sneered at Maiev. “I do this for Azeroth.”

Ishetii threw her sword. Whether it was her mother's or father's she had no clue. It did not matter. The blade hit it's mark, dead center of his chest. “I do this for Azeroth.” She hissed.

He fell to his knees, staring off into the distance at something Ishetii didn't see. He murmured something under his breath. Something like a name perhaps.

Kyena sneered and turned her back on Illidan, her armor clinking as she did so. Her whole unit followed her lead, their marching feet growing fainter as they made their way from the Temple.


End file.
